Prayers and Lies

by Sherri Wood Emmons

I left the house at six, carrying an armload of freshly pressed skirts for the play. Reana Mae had set up the card table in the living room and was dealing a hand of poker.

  “That ain’t the way Tracy deals ’em,” I heard the old woman’s querulous voice as the screen door shut behind me.

  I spent the evening dragging scenery on and off the stage and sewing a tear in the lead actress’s dress. Finally, at eight thirty, I walked home in the cool, fresh April night. At nine I knew Brian would call. He called almost every night at nine. At the corner, I paused just long enough to see a shooting star streak across the sky. I wished that Brian would ask me to the junior prom—Mother always said if you wished on a shooting star, God would hear the wish.

  I turned the corner onto our street and stared in confusion at a jumble of flashing red lights. They were in front of our house, and the front door was open. I began running, stumbling now and again over the skirts trailing from my arms. What was happening? Was Mother all right? Where was Reana Mae?

  I bounded onto the porch and into the house, to find several men in uniforms standing about the living room. They stared at me as I paused, gasping, looking wildly around for Mother.

  “Mother!” I called out. “Where are you?”

  Then I heard the reassuring click of her high heels in the hallway.

  “I’m here, Bethany, I’m fine. It’s okay,” she said, scooping me into a hug. “Reana Mae’s fine, Tracy’s fine, I’m fine.”

  “Why are they here?” I panted, pulling back to look at her face.

  “Araminta has died,” she said, stroking my hair.

  “Died? Here? In my house?”

  “Yes, honey, here in her own bed.”

  “But why?” I asked. “What happened?”

  “Well, that’s what the EMTs are trying to find out,” she said, looking back down the hall. “But it looks as if she just died in her sleep.”

  “Where’s Reana Mae?”

  “She’s upstairs,” Mother said. “Why don’t you go on up?”

  She nodded toward the group of men standing awkwardly about the room. “They’ll be gone soon.”

  Upstairs, Reana Mae was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

  “Hey,” I said. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, turning to look at me.

  “She just died, Bethany. Just like that. We was playing poker and I just won a hand, and she said she was tired, so I helped her get in bed. And when I went back to check on her, she was dead.”

  “What’d you do?” I asked.

  “I called Aunt Helen at the church, and she came home and called for the ambulance. But I already knew she was dead. I seen death before.”

  “What did she look like?”

  I’d never seen a dead person.

  “Well, she was real still and her eyes were open, staring straight up at the ceiling. And then I touched her, you know, and she was real cold. So I knew she was dead.”

  “Were you scared?” I thought I would have been scared to death.

  “Naw.” She shook her head so that her blond hair brushed her chin. “She went real peaceful.”

  Downstairs we heard tramping boots. We looked out the window to see a hospital gurney being wheeled to the ambulance. A white sheet covered the shape on the gurney.

  “Leastways she got to die at home,” Reana Mae whispered. “She didn’t want to go to no hospital. She told me that.”

  “And now she’s with DarlaJean and Winston,” I added.

  She shot me a look of pure disdain then. Of course, Reana Mae did not believe in Heaven, or in hell either. “Dead’s dead,” she always said.

  “Did Mother call Daddy yet?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Right after she called the ambulance. He’ll be home in the morning.”

  I wondered how he would feel, with his mother dying while he was out of town.

  “Then she called Belle,” Reana continued.

  “Belle?”

  “Course, silly. Belle is Araminta’s sister, after all.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. I had never seen the two of them together, and Araminta always spoke of Belle with anger.

  “Is she coming?”

  “She’ll be here tomorrow night.” Reana Mae smiled at me. “It’ll be good to see Belle.”

  I nodded, watching silently as the men raised the gurney with my grandmother’s body into the ambulance.

  A car pulled up behind the ambulance, its headlights illuminating the scene.

  “Oh, Lord,” Reana Mae hissed. “There’s Tracy come home. She’ll have a fit!”

  Sure enough, Tracy was out of the car before the driver even came to a complete stop. She ran toward the ambulance, as Mother ran down the walkway, trying to intercept her.

  Tracy reached the gurney before Mother, shoved the EMT aside, and snatched at the white sheet, tearing it away to reveal Araminta’s pale face, her eyes still wide open, staring at the sky.

  “No!” Tracy screamed, elbowing away an ambulance attendant.

  “No!” She slapped at my mother, who was trying to reach her.

  I sat transfixed, watching as she fought off the paramedics, a police officer, my mother, and her date, who had left the car running behind them when he jumped out to follow her.

  “No, no, no, no, noooooo!”

  Her wails filled the quiet street. Neighbors came out to stand on their porches. The EMTs stood back, wary of Tracy’s flying fists and fingernails, watching as Mother tried to subdue her. Even Tracy’s boyfriend stood back, well out of reach of those hands. I looked to see what Reana Mae would say, but she was gone. In an instant I saw her running across the yard toward Mother and Tracy.

  “No, no, no, no, nooooo!”

  Still the wails came, until suddenly they were stilled by a loud slap.

  Reana Mae had brushed past Mother and slapped Tracy hard across the face.

  Tracy stood still, staring at Reana for an instant. In the silence, I heard Reana say, “Stop it, Tracy! Just stop that wailing right now! Can’t you see what you’re doing to Aunt Helen?”

  Before Tracy could respond or begin screaming again, Mother had wrapped her arms around her shaking body and was walking her firmly back toward the house. Reana stood still for a minute, watching them, then followed them into the house. I ran downstairs.

  “Shall I go for Dr. Statton, Mother?”

  Before she could answer, he was at the door, carrying his black bag. Fifteen minutes later, Mother and Reana Mae and I undressed Tracy and put her to bed. The sedative had knocked her out almost immediately. She would sleep for hours. That would give us time to think, to plan, to clean Araminta’s room.

  Daddy pulled in the next morning, unshaven and rumpled. His face was gray and he smelled of pipe tobacco. After a shower and shave, he and Mother sat down at the kitchen table to make arrangements. He would call the funeral home and the newspaper. Mother would pick out something for Araminta to wear at the viewing and go to the florist. Reana Mae and I were dispatched to the grocery. People would be coming to stay. We’d need more milk, more sodas, more eggs.

  None of us spoke about Tracy, or what we would do when she woke up.

  28

  The Gathered Clan

  Aunt Belle arrived that evening, bearing bourbon and a huge smoked ham. I felt better as soon as she walked in the door.

  “Lord God Almighty, Bethany Marie! You’ve gone and blossomed into a beauty!”

  Only Aunt Belle would say that.

  She caught me in a tight hug, then turned to scoop in Reana Mae.

  “And you, child. Look at you! All tall and growed up and pretty as a postcard. I bet the boys go damn-near wild over you.”

  Reana Mae grinned and kissed Belle’s cheek.

  “I don’t know ’bout that.” She laughed. “But I know one that’s gone wild for Bethany.”

  “Well, now, Jimmy told me you got yourself a young man, Bethy. You bring him around one day so I can meet him.” She laughed as she reached out to
pinch my reddening cheek.

  “Oh, I won’t bite him or nothin’. I just got to make sure he’s good enough for my little girl.”

  She plopped down onto the sofa.

  “He ain’t Jewish, is he?”

  I shook my head and sank down beside her.

  “Well, that’s good.” She nodded. “I don’t think your mama could take another Jew in the family.”

  Mother walked in just then, carrying tea.

  “Well, he’s not a Jew anymore, Belle,” she said firmly, setting the tea service on the table. “He got baptized before the wedding, you know.”

  “Once a Jew, always a Jew,” Belle replied darkly, dropping sugar cube after sugar cube into her cup. “And he looks like a Jew. I imagine Nancy’s babies will come out with hairy backs, that’s all.” She shook her head and sipped her tea. “Just like monkeys.”

  Aunt Belle had firm opinions about blacks, Mexicans, Asians, Jews, and Italians—anyone whose skin was a shade too dark or who spoke with an a “foreign” accent.

  “Course, we always served them at the drugstores,” she said. “Mason was firm about that. Even let ’em sit at the counter to buy a soda pop. We caught us some hell for that, you know. But Mason always said their money spends just like everyone else’s, and I reckon he was right.”

  Mother’s face was calm, but her eyes had a pained look.

  “I don’t suppose Nancy will have any children, Arabella. She says she doesn’t want any.”

  “Oh, well, she’ll change her mind. That urge will hit her, sooner or later.”

  Mother just smiled faintly and shook her head.

  “Now, then.” Belle set the teacup down and leaned forward. “What do ya’ll need me to do? ’Cause I’m here to help. Minta and me, we didn’t always get along, but she was my sister. And I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

  “I think we’ve got everything planned,” Mother said. “Jimmy’s made the arrangements with the funeral parlor, and we’ve bought a plot at the cemetery. And the ladies’ auxiliary will cook the funeral meal.”

  “Well, then, I’ll pay for it,” Belle said firmly. “No, Helen, don’t even think about arguing. I’ll pay for the plot. She was my sister, after all. My mama would want me to take care of her now.”

  Aunt Belle settled into Araminta’s room, unpacking her huge suitcase and folding her things neatly into the dresser.

  “We’ll just take these down to the Goodwill,” she said, nodding at Araminta’s clothes piled on the bed. “Someone will get some use out of ’em.”

  Tracy awoke just after Belle arrived, stumbling upstairs to the kitchen and drinking coffee with sugar and milk. She didn’t rise to hug Aunt Belle, or even say hello when Belle hugged her. She just sat, staring at her coffee.

  The kitchen was full of people coming and going, bringing more food than we could eat in a month. Church ladies came with casseroles and pies and loaf after loaf of banana bread.

  “You’d think we was monkeys with all that banana bread,” Reana Mae whispered. “Maybe them church folk is related to the apes.”

  I giggled, but my eyes never left Tracy. I was scared she might explode at any minute. But she simply sat and drank coffee, seemingly oblivious to the commotion around her.

  Melinda and Nancy arrived without Neil. Melinda unpacked her suitcase in the attic room. Nancy would not be staying overnight, she said. Neil needed her at home. But they’d be back the next day for the viewing.

  At ten o’clock, Tracy finally rose from the table, took a loaf of banana bread, and retreated to her room, closing the door behind her. She’d not spoken a word. Mother’s tired eyes followed her anxiously, but she let Tracy go.

  The next day we spent at the funeral home, sitting quietly beside the open casket where Araminta Lee Wylie lay in state. Mother had bought a beautiful new dress for her to be buried in, and the folks at the funeral home had made up her face. She didn’t look like she was asleep, which is what Cindy had said. She looked like a department store mannequin or something you’d see at Ripley’s Believe It or Not Wax Museum.

  Mother moved smoothly around the hushed room, hugging people as they came and went, offering tea and comfort. Melinda stayed close by her, refilling the cookie plate and the teapot, smiling at people and saying, yes, she certainly did like college, and won’t you have another cookie?

  Nancy and Neil arrived mid-morning. Nancy wore a stunning black dress with white lace edging at the neck. A huge diamond pendant hung around her throat, and she spent most of the day waving her diamond ring in people’s faces. She looked like she was going to the opera instead of a viewing. Neil trailed along behind her, watching her happily.

  Daddy sat quietly beside the casket, firmly turned away so he didn’t have to look at Araminta’s still body. Tracy sat beside him, one hand in Daddy’s, the other reaching out now and then to touch the old lady’s face. She hadn’t said more than ten words all day, just sat and stared at Araminta’s body. It was creepy, Reana Mae said, seeing her stare and stare at Araminta … like she might just crawl in there with her.

  Late morning, Uncle Ray arrived with Cleda Rae and Mr. Ephraim Turner. Cleda Rae walked straight to the coffin, leaned over to look at Araminta, then leaned farther down to kiss the old lady’s cheek.

  When she straightened up, she said to my father, “Well, Jimmy, leastways you took her in at the end. You done the right thing in the end. Lord knows, you didn’t know her real well, but she was your mama, sure and true, and you done right by her at the end.”

  She turned to Reana Mae, holding open her scrawny arms and pulling Reana into a tight embrace.

  “There’s my little girl. How you doin’, sugar? They treatin’ you right up here? You gettin’ along okay? You look like you’ve growed a foot! And that blond hair. I never will figure on where you got that hair. Lord knows it wasn’t from your daddy, ’cause he’s got Noah’s black hair, sure and true. Him and Caleb both favor their daddy.

  “How old are you now, sugar? Why, you must be fifteen! Lord, the time does fly by, don’t it? Seems like yesterday you was just a little thing, scrawniest little thing I ever laid eyes on. And now look at you, a fine young woman. Bobby Lee’d be proud to see you, that’s for certain. He couldn’t come, you know. I told him he ought to be here, seeing as Minta was his aunt. But he’s out in Nevada some-wheres, drivin’ that big ole truck of his. He ain’t hardly ever home anymore, leastways that’s what Ray says. Always gone somewheres in that truck.”

  She paused to breathe, her eyes scanning the room.

  “Is Caleb coming?” Reana Mae asked quickly, watching Cleda Rae’s face.

  “Lord, no, honey, I don’t expect so.”

  Reana seemed to wilt at this, but she asked, “Where is he, then?”

  “Oh, Lord, sugar, I ain’t seen that boy since he left the river. Course, I don’t get down to the river much no more. Ephraim here, why he works harder than a Chinaman at that hospital. He don’t get much time off for trips and vacations.”

  She put her arm through her husband’s, as if staking a claim. “He works real hard so we can have us a nice apartment and a nice car. You gotta see my car, Belle,” she said, turning to Aunt Belle. “I got me a Japanese car! A Toyota, is that right, Ephraim? Is that what it’s called? Yes, a Toyota car all the way from Japan. Ephraim says they’re the best at makin’ cars, those Japs.” She nodded earnestly.

  “Well, that’s fine, Cleda,” Aunt Belle said. “I’m glad you got yourself everything you wanted.”

  “Well, it took long enough, Belle, that’s all I got to say. Lord knows, I worked hard enough just to feed my boys all those years, ’cause their daddy surely didn’t.”

  “But, Cleda Rae,” Reana Mae interrupted. “Don’t you know where Caleb is?”

  From the corner of my eye, I could see Mother shaking her head at Cleda, as if she could stop Cleda Rae from saying anything that came into her head.

  “Lord, no, sugar. I don’t know where’s he’s got hisself to. He’s a
growed-up man now, and he don’t come home to his mama no more.”

  She shook her head, then brightened. “Oh, and here’s Brother Harley, come to pay his respects to Minta. Ain’t that purely grand?”

  I turned, startled, to see Reverend Harley standing in the door- way, Ida Louise by his side. Reana Mae’s face whitened; she gripped my hand tight.

  “Lord,” she whispered. “I didn’t count on Ida Louise bein’ here.”

  Then a grin broke across her face and she dropped my hand and ran toward the door.

  “Hey, Harley!” she called out, so loud that everyone in the room stopped to stare.

  At sixteen, Harley Boy was tall, taller even than my father. His red hair hung low across his forehead. His face lit up when he saw Reana Mae.

  “Hey, yourself,” he said, wrapping his big arms around her and lifting her slightly off the ground.

  Ida Louise’s eyes narrowed as she watched them. She turned abruptly and walked to where my mother stood chatting with our minister.

  I walked slowly toward Harley and Reana, feeling like an intruder. But Reana Mae turned toward me and said, “Here’s Bethany, Harley. Ain’t she growed up into a beauty?”

  Harley grinned and hugged me lightly, but his eyes never left Reana Mae’s face.

  “Is Ruthann coming, too?” she asked, looking behind him expectantly.

  “I reckon they’ll get here later,” he said. “Hobie had to work on the car before they left. Hey,” he added brightly, “you wanna come see my car? I drove up in it myself, followed Grandpa in my own car, so you all could see it. Maybe we can take a drive.”

  “Sure, Harley.” Reana Mae smiled. “Let me and Bethany tell Aunt Helen where we’re goin’ to, and we’ll take us a drive in your car.”

  I don’t think Harley meant for me to go along, but there was nothing he could say.

  Mother frowned slightly, asked Ida Louise several questions about Harley’s driving skills and his car, then relented. I felt Ida’s sharp eyes on us as we walked out of the funeral home.

  We admired Harley’s blue Duster, then got in, Reana Mae up front with Harley, me in the backseat. Harley pulled out of the parking lot and let the tires squeal as he tore down Washington Street, going well over the speed limit.